


please stop asking me to describe him.

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan and phil
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Depression, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Phanfiction, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love, lots of cliche, non-youtuber dan and phil, sorry if it's fluffy in parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5618851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dan Howell learns a lot about love, loss, and life in general (and how it tends to fuck many people over in the end).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I was hesitant about writing about until I had experienced part of it myself. It is a story containing many dark themes and it is something I was able to relate to; my heart was quite literally written between the lines (I'm really good at cliches as you can tell).
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Dan had always wanted kids. 

He also had no idea why his mind had staggered into such a strange territory. 

The city of London was hardly a place to raise a family, and Dan was well aware of that. He was only 22, and obviously too young to have a grasp on real life and how things were generally supposed to work. During these inner tirades, he wound up thinking of the future a lot: his future. The future that he imagined would be full of suburban houses and large backyards and a family dog and at least two children and Phil. And...Phil. 

Did he even think he would've had such a future a few years ago? Hah. Fat chance. 

He could hear Phil in the kitchen, slamming cupboards and milling around for what sounded like silverware. It was only 9, and Dan had a whole night of thinking ahead of him. 

"Phil?" 

"Yes, Dan?" 

"Are you making cereal?" 

It wasn't exactly unusual. Dan heard no response and he assumed Phil to be shoving spoonfuls of Shreddies into his mouth. Phil, from the outside, _did_ seem like an eccentric person, and reaffirmed it by having cereal for dinner most nights of the week. 

Dan shuddered.  

The door to his room creaked open and a pajama-clad Phil appeared, holding his bowl up beneath his mouth.  

"That's a good look for you there, Phil." 

"Schanks," said Phil, trying not to let the cereal escape his mouth. 

Phil put his bowl down on Dan's bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed beside Dan, who kept his eyes glued to Phil's hands. He'd always had a thing for the hands, and he took the left one into his own as Phil faced him. It was warm, but he thought nothing of it. They were always warm. Even though the two had no title anymore, Dan took it upon himself to think that maybe there'd still be a future holding these hands. 

Phil pulled away and pouted. "Dan..." 

"Right. Sorry." 

Dan looked back to his laptop, which was still open to a Wikipedia page about something far less interesting than what was in front of him now. 

"How are you feeling?" Phil didn't break eye contact, although Dan couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the type on the screen. 

"I'm good," Dan replied. He was always good. Just good didn't ever seem enough though. 

"Are you? You haven't had a proper conversation with me in a week." 

Dan crinkled his brow, managing to look up for a brief moment. Phil had a downward gaze as if to say _Honestly, I know I'm a terrible person_ _and I'd appreciate it if you'd outwardly say it._ That was hardly the truth. 

"Trust me, okay? I'm just going through a... _a phase._ " 

Dan had experienced his fair share of breakups. He'd been the dumper, the dumpee, and he'd become used to the words "I'm sorry, but..." and "It's not you..." 

Every single time, he'd curl up on the couch with a tub of ice cream and purge himself of his exes with Game of Thrones marathons for about a day or two, and he'd be fine. Everything back to normal. No big deal. 

It'd been a month. 30 whole days. Nothing but a dark and sometimes terrifying vortex of binge eating and crying whenever Phil was out of the house or asleep. 

Dan was perfectly fine. 

Phil gave him a soft smile. Dan took it to mean that he was being dramatic again. 

"I'm still here, aren't I?" 

"Yeah, you are. Seriously, don't worry. I'll be back to normal soon, okay? Just...I would appreciate some quiet time, if that's alright." 

Phil stood from his position on the bed and placed a hand on Dan's head. Dan didn't have the heart to glare at him for mussing up his hair. 

"Okay. I'll see you in the morning." 

Dan sighed, and Phil left the room. He heard Phil's door shut through the wall, and Dan stared at the cereal bowl Phil had forgotten about. 

Phil was still here. Phil was here, and Dan couldn't touch him, or kiss him, or love him. 

He could still love him, but he'd have to get over it eventually.  

 

- 

The next day was very freeing. 

Dan was alone in the flat, and Phil was out in town doing errands and visiting friends that Dan couldn't have been bothered to see with him. Phil had encouraged Dan to stay at home and do some thinking, even though Dan had been up all night doing exactly that, playing it off as if he actually had gotten a full 8 hours of sleep when Phil woke up in the morning. 

Dan's eyes hurt, and he wasn't sure if it was from sleep deprivation or the hour spent crying like a baby. 

Yes, in fact, he was a cliché, thank you for asking. 

Dan was loving it that the flat was empty. He currently had Muse playing through the speakers in the kitchen, and it was comforting to scream along with Matt Bellamy because why the fuck not? If the neighbors didn't like it, then fuck them. It was Dan's right to mourn, and it was also his right to sing. 

Okay, maybe he sounded like a dying 12-year-old girl, but that was the least of his concerns. 

So far, his day had been quite productive. He'd made it through a few reruns of Friends, fixed a couple bowls of cereal, and showered. However, Dan was restless. His feet needed somewhere to go, and all he could focus on was how much he wanted to leave, to run, although only in the metaphorical sense.  

So, he slipped into some sweats and a hoodie and headed out, nowhere in particular. 

The sad part was, as he was walking, he felt like the only person in London. 

Dan made it a few blocks from the apartment when he realized that he was completely alone. Phil was out here somewhere, and everywhere he looked, there were mothers with children, couples sitting in stereotypical coffee shops holding each others' stereotypical hands. Dan had no idea where he was going, and yet he had walked these paths so many times. 

It was cold, and his hands were curled up in his hoodie pocket. 

There was a videogame shop on the corner that caught his eye for a moment, so his mind settled there, and he decided that looking around for yet another distraction from his feelings was what was best. 

As Dan entered the shop, a bell rang from the top of the door. He didn't recognize it; perhaps it was something he and Phil had always looked over during their trips around the city. Upon looking, Dan noticed the walls were completely covered in dark gray paint, which was hardly visible underneath the magnitude of advertising posters plastered up on top. From floor to ceiling, there were shelves stocked with everything from old Sega games to recent releases like Pokemon for the 3DS.  

In other words, Dan felt quite comfortable. 

He noticed that, besides a male employee talking to another customer near the back, he was the shop's only visible inhabitant. He could hear the other customer going on about his granddaughter's birthday and how he needed to find "some Nintendo Dog game" for a gift. Dan smiled, remembering how it had been years since he had fed his very own virtual dogs. 

He began scanning the rows of games, not looking for anything in particular, and then there came the tap on his shoulder. 

"Need any help deciding?" 

"Er, no, just--" Woah.  

Dan turned to face the voice addressing him, and almost let his jaw drop. 

As if he needed another cliché. 

The voice, sorry, _she_ was wearing the same outfit as the male employee who had been occupied when Dan had initially entered the store; there was the same gray work apron, long sleeved white shirt, and a nametag that read "Rae" with a small cat sticker in the corner. Her hair was long and black to the point it looked dark blue, and she was staring at him with brown eyes that made his chest burn. 

And Dan was suddenly aware that he hadn't finished his sentence.  

"Sorry, yeah, no, I...was just looking." He rubbed the back of his neck and wow, he felt gigantic. Had he always been this big? 

The girl, apparently named Rae, smirked. "Caught you off guard, mate?"  

" _Mate?_ What are you, a _lad_ _?_ "  

"Obviously not," Rae retorted, crinkling her nose up at Dan. "Let me know if you're in need of assistance, alright?" As Dan was stumbling over words to say in reply, she turned away and headed to the back of the store and began chatting with the other guy working. 

Okay, first of all, what the hell? 

Second, Dan was sure it was the universe testing him. 

_Yes, Dan, we are aware of your recent breakup, however, we think it'd be fun to present your grieving self with a beautiful female, just to conflict you and make you feel like a shitty douche_ _canoe. Have fun!_  

Dan placed his fingers to his temples. Okay then. 

He was fairly sure this was the universe's doing. It had led him to a safe space, a gaming store no doubt, and he was now being lured by an absolutely adorable employee who had, if only for a moment, taken his brain off of the topic of Phil Lester. 

He had to get her number. 

But Dan was a strategist and he didn't want to come off more desperate than he already was, so he spent the next ten minutes pretending to be interested in the old Sonic games. They used to be his favorite; Phil had bought him the Sonic classics all put together on one cartridge for his DS. The same cartridge was most likely sitting in a trash heap now, wherever that was, along with so many other things. 

It occurred to Dan that not buying anything would probably result in questions, and he needed an excuse to go up to the counter where Rae was. In order to get himself a date out of pity (hopefully), he grabbed a copy of Sonic 3 for the Genesis and went up to checkout. 

He set the game on the counter and waited for Rae to acknowledge him. She was engrossed in playing something on her phone. Dan coughed awkwardly. 

"Hmm?" There she was. "Oh, my bad. Is this it for you?" She asked him. God, those eyes. 

"Yeah..." Dan thought about a follow up, some sort of ice breaker. "You into Sonic at all?" 

Rae scanned the game and laughed. "I was, actually, when I was quite young. I'm more of a Mario person now, to be honest." 

"I see. Favorite Mario game?" 

"Super Mario 64. I never got the chance to appreciate it when it came out, considering my age, but y'know. I'm into classics." She smiled, looking up at Dan as she punched his total into the register. 

"Your age? C'mon," said Dan, leaning against the counter, "I was 5 when 64 came out. What's your excuse?" 

"Well, the year was 1996 I believe, and if you were to see a 2 year old holding a Nintendo 64 controller, how surprised would you be?" Rae raised her eyebrows.  

"Touche."  

Rae placed the game into a paper bag and handed Dan a printed receipt. _Quick you idiot, get her damn number._  

"I don't believe I asked your name..?" said Rae, tapping her finger on the counter's surface. 

"Dan. Nice to meet you. Perhaps you'd like to meet up sometime and, er, get coffee?" Dear _g_ _od_ how had he ever managed to get dates before? 

"I'd love to." 

So Dan left the shop with a phone number (and a real one at that!) scribbled on the back of his receipt. Would he tell Phil about this? Probably, but then again, maybe he shouldn't. For the first time in a month, he had felt happy about something completely personal to himself. It was his happiness. Why give it away? The irony of the whole situation almost made him trip over his own feet. 

The door to the apartment was unlocked when Dan returned, and when he walked into the lounge, Phil was on the couch mindlessly scrolling on his phone while a cooking show played on the TV in the background. Dan seemed to have caught him by surprise. 

"Where were you?" 

"Out." Cringe. _You're not a rebellious teenager, Dan, this is your friend._  

"I was just walking through town a bit," Dan added, throwing the paper bag with the Sonic game onto the sofa before plopping down beside Phil.  

"Ooh," exclaimed Phil. He seemed way too excited at Dan's words. Dan guessed it was because he hadn't left the house in so long; it must've been a surprise to hear that his perennial depression had momentarily subsided just enough for him to get some fresh air. Damn, was he really that pathetic? 

"I suppose you did yourself some thinking, then?" 

Dan had gotten distracted, creasing his receipt with Rae's phone number in his hands. He mumbled an agreement, only half listening to what Phil had started to say. 

"You know, it really was for the best, eh? I'd say we're better off as best mates. Nothing as good as that. It was starting to get to me, knowing that I was responsible for myself as well as you--" 

"I'm sorry, _what?_ " 

The words blurted from Dan's mouth as he was knocked out of his daydreaming by a sentence so ridiculous it could've only come from Phil himself. 

"Responsible for me? Is that what all that time was to you? Just...just _babysitting_ me for over a year?" 

Phil got to his feet as Dan struggled to wrap his head around the absolute stupidity he had just been smacked in the face with. Phil's ears were turning red. "No!" Phil said, holding out his hands as if Dan was about to punch him in the gut. "No, Dan, look, that's not what I mean. I just--" 

"Oh, you just." Dan couldn't manage to spit the words out in time before he had to let out a sigh. "You just said it had gotten to you. Poor Phil, poor you." The sarcasm Dan had intended to be biting had its effect; Phil shrugged away. "You think that I couldn't be responsible for my own self, then? I wasn't your _child_. I wasn't some _pet_ to look after. I was...I am a person. My own person. I loved you for how long, exactly? And now I find out that you took that upon yourself to stick me on a leash and look after me?" 

"Dan," Phil replied, letting his hands fall to his sides. "You know what I meant." 

"Do I?" 

"I loved you, and you knew. How could I not?" Dan looked away. "Every waking moment, I loved you. It was never your fault that I felt that way, and I never blamed you, because I was the one who wasn't ready. Love is supposed to feel like worry, but I guess I just wasn't prepared for it, because you know the person you love could just slip away from you in an instant." _Oh, right Phil, bring out the clichés._  

"Dan, look at me." 

And he did, and Phil was crying, and then so was he, but Dan honestly knew it was for two different reasons. Whereas Phil was content in the present tense, Dan couldn't disassociate himself from the past. 

"It was never your fault, you understand that, right?" 

Dan didn't reply; he stood up and grabbed his paper bag and brushed past Phil, heading in the direction of his room. Maybe the boldness from his earlier wordly encounter had retreated back to the depths of who he actually was: just Dan, except way, way sadder. 

He didn't want to think about what had just happened, so he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his bed. The cereal bowl was still on his table. 

Dan rolled over and reached over the bed to fish the receipt out from his hoodie pocket. Talking to another person could help, and what better time than this? He hoped the girl he had met could be useful in a moment like this, so he typed in her number to a new contact and sent a text. 

**'hey Rae, it's dan (the tall slightly emo dude from the shop earlier) whats up??'**  

Before he could set his phone down, it dinged with her reply. _Wow, that was quick._  

**'Hello! Ive just been loungin around the house not much to do. Hbu?'**  

Okay...so they text for six hours and suddenly it's 2 in the morning and Dan has realized he hasn't slept for over 24 hours. The brightness on his phone burns his eyes but he can't stop rereading Rae's last message. 

**'Meet me at the Starbucks on 5** **th** **St tomorrow? Around noon?'**  

And Dan types back a yes before he can properly shut his eyes and fall asleep.


	2. 2

The next morning, Dan wakes up and his insides are being twisted around because of what happened last night. 

He felt around for his phone, which was presumably somewhere mixed around in his bed sheets. He'd fallen asleep still holding it from what he could recall. Also from what he could recall, a very good-looking girl was interested in him, and he could see himself feeling the same. 

But his best friend most likely went to sleep crying last night. Phil's words clammered around in Dan's head, and he was tempted to take a pill for the inevitable headache it was sure to cause him later.  

Dan wouldn't let Phil ruin what he could have going here. It was time to stand up, get out, and get over it. This was the real world, and Dan was an adult, and everything could be fine again. Perhaps it was for the best. If they hadn't broken up, Dan would've never met anyone new...someone potentially better. 

When he walked out into the kitchen, Phil wasn't there. Dan guessed he was still asleep, and from the soft snoring coming from the direction of his room, he was right. It was almost 11 in the morning, which was acceptable for Dan after only going to bed at 2 last night. He had a date at 12, and plenty of time to prepare himself for it. 

Yeah, today was gonna be good. 

After preparing a cup of tea, he headed into the lounge and switched on the TV. Dan took the remote and set the volume low, because Phil was never in a good mood if he was woken up by Dan, and after yesterday's events Dan was more than happy to take the precaution. He sipped from his mug idly. They'd never had a proper fight before; the way they said "I hate you" had never actually meant anything but endearment. Dan could never hate Phil, even if he had been the cause of a spiraling existential depression. He'd been dealing with a quite uncomfortable feeling in his stomach for a while, and Phil took a grand _day_ to get over it and didn't give a flying fuck afterward. 

Phil had funny ways of showing how much he cared, didn't he? Dan was just over here being hit with piles upon piles of metaphorical bricks. 

Dan checked his phone: 11:16. He reckoned it was time to shower. Phil was still asleep in his room, but Dan was over it, and decided on running the water regardless of if it woke Phil up; he'd lost enough sleep over him so why not repay the favor? 

It took him a few minutes to shower and set out his outfit; Dan figured that his usual funeral black would most likely be a tad dismal, so he opted instead for a navy jumper to go with his jeans and his sneakers. He found himself wondering if he'd ever spent this much time on a first date impression (not that he remembered a lot about first dates). 

Was it a date? Dan...was dating? Like, a _date_ date. _Alright, no need to freak yourself out._  

Dan spent the next ten minutes drying his hair and _not_ giving a shit about how loud the hairdryer was and _not_ caring how annoyed Phil would be because Dan was going to be happy, goddammit, and worrying about things was not going to ruin it. 

11:38. Time to start the walk. 

Going into town wasn't anything Dan dreaded. It was a mere 15 minutes to the Starbucks Rae had requested they meet up at; in an attempt to salvage his anti-corporate dignity, he quite nearly lost his focus a few times. Dan managed to arrive at the coffee shop before Rae. It wasn't at all busy, and Dan ordered an espresso to ease his mind of the nervousness that hadn't fully set in yet. What if he smelled bad? What if she liked texting him better than talking face to face? What if an asteroid crashed into the Earth as they were talking? 

Okay, so Dan was a bit anxious. When wasn't he, really? 

He had sat at a corner table that could be viewed from the door, and vice versa. Dan ran the end of his jumper between his fingers and continuously picked up his phone to check the time. It was still a few minutes before 12, so he had nothing to worry about, but his feet were tapping with the knowledge that not everyone in the world could be punctual.  

After what seemed like a lifetime, Dan saw the door open and a flustered looking Rae enter the shop. He waved, and when she caught his eye, a smile erupted onto her previously blushed face.  

"Dan!" Rae traipsed over to the table and took the seat opposite Dan. "How are you?" 

Dan felt heat rising in his cheeks, but he ignored it and returned the girl's eager expression. "I'm fantastic. I'll be honest...I doubted you'd ever give me a second glance when I met you at your job the other day." 

"Oh," Rae chuckled, covering her face with her hands, which were covered by the sleeves of her cardigan. "Don't be silly. You're so easy to make conversation with! When we were texting, it was like talking to a less annoying version of myself." She was blushing, and she was trying to cover it up with slightly nervous laughter: Dan could relate to that tactic. 

He took a moment to look at her straight on; after all, she wasn't wearing the frumpy work uniform that she had been when they'd met. Her cardigan was a mustard yellow (very flattering, he noted, though Dan knew next to _shit_ about women's clothing), and it brought out the gold in the brown eyes that had bored holes in his chest before. Dan was definitely an eye person. 

"So," Dan said, laying his hands flat on the table in front of him. "Tell me about yourself." _Wait wait wait oh my god._ Dan bursts out laughing and so does Rae, and Dan attempts to bury his head in his arms because he is an embarrassing cliché but instead nearly gives himself a concussion by banging his forehead on the hardwood table. 

"Wow." Rae was wheezing and Dan found it incredibly cute. 

"I am so sorry." Dan gets out. "Let's pretend that never happened. How's your day going then?" 

"It's been good, you know. One of my mates and I got to playing some games earlier. It was pretty fun, I suppose. And you?" 

"Well," starts Dan. "Funny you should ask. I had to tiptoe around my flat just to get ready this morning. It was dreadful." 

"Oh, why?" 

"My flatmate's not a morning person..." Dan contemplates saying what he's thinking, which isn't a good idea, because Rae raises an eyebrow. 

"Really?" She says, heavily inflicting sarcasm. Dan feels it _dripping_ onto the table. 

"Okay, so long story, but basically I live with this guy and he's sorta my best friend, but we basically hate each other all the time now." 

"Hmm." Rae is pondering over what Dan just said. 

"I'm not exactly sure that you want to hear about my personal turmoil on a date." 

"My friends tell me I'm very talented in the advice department, Dan," says Rae, smirking up at him. "If this is a date, and I am in fact intrigued by you, I would surely want to get to know you." Dan lets out a sigh of relief. _So I'm not pathetic after all!_  

"Why don't you tell me more about this _friend_ of yours?" 

"I've known him for ages...what, about 4 years now? We've lived together for almost all of that time, starting when I was at university. I love him to death, obviously, but lately we're falling apart and it bothers me because I don't think he realizes it as much as I do. It's complicated." The pit in Dan's stomach had returned, heavier than ever, as Rae goes on to say something about communication and openly displaying feelings et cetera et cetera... 

"When you say you love him, do you actually let him know you do?" Rae says, and Dan is back in reality. "Like, is he aware?' 

"Oh, trust me, he's well aware." 

"Are you...are you in love _with_ him?" 

At first, Dan blurts out a sudden "No! Of course not!" and he waits for Rae's reaction, and he's very confused because she's not looking at him like he's crazy. She isn't looking at him with the eyes that drew him in initially, because instead of curiosity, they are flooded with realization, and all Dan wants to do is hide, but he can't.  

"Dan, I believe this is the beginning to a beautiful friendship. And," adds Rae, "I'm going to tell you a story, okay? No interruptions." 

At this point, Dan had been overcome by his own confusion, but did not speak, because now he was intrigued. 

"Last year, I moved in with my best friend of 12 years. We'd known each other since birth pretty much, and we could figure each other out from the outside in, that's how close we were. He told me he had developed feelings for me, and we dated for a while, but I eventually broke up with him because I realized that I had mistook friendship for love, and nothing about the way I was feeling could amount to his own love for me. I think the situations are quite similar." 

"Do you still live with him?" 

"I do," says Rae. "It took us ages to get back to normal, but we did." 

Dan couldn't exactly see that happening with him and Phil. He loved him. Like, literally. If he tried to shove the feelings down into his mind, they'd just explode back up again and the cycle was hell-bent on destroying him. 

"What if the feelings aren't reciprocated? What if...what if...I don't really know what I'm trying to say." 

"You're scared." Rae is leaning forward a little bit, with her legs crossed on the chair. Dan was so very perplexed, because he had just met her, and yet they've known one another for all of eternity.  

"I am," Dan admits. It feels good to say it. 

"What's he like? You haven't told me much about him." 

"I don't know how to start. It's like, imagine you know someone so well it scares you sometimes. His name is Phil, for starters. He's tall, my height, and he has really dark hair and blue eyes, and I don't know, a cute face, I guess? He has a real nice smile, and he's just...just so nice. I've never known anyone nicer." 

"Just nice?" asks Rae. "So you have a thing for nice boys?" 

"Nice _people._ "  

"Ah, nice _people._ I see." 

Dan checks his phone out of habit. They'd been talking about his personal problems for a little over 30 minutes. His coffee was long gone. 

Rae got to her feet. "I'm gonna get a drink. I'll be right back." She heads up to the counter and Dan is still staring at the time on his phone. Suddenly, a message pops up. Phil. Speak of the devil. 

**'Get milk on the way back pls'**  

For a second, Dan considered texting back something along the lines of 'get your own milk you douche canoe' but he refrains. 

**'k'**  

Dan is not a 'k' type of person, but right now he is. Phil's text seemed too normal to be true, however he could hardly do anything about it at the moment. Rae comes back into view holding a mug, and she looks prepared to ruthlessly interrogate Dan about his feelings and what not. 

Because that's what new friends do, right? 

"Who you texting there?" 

"My fr--… Phil." 

"What's he want?" 

"Milk." 

Rae snorts, and Dan locks his phone because his cheeks are getting warm once again. He hears it vibrate a few times on the table, but he ignores it. Whatever Phil had to say was most certainly not important in the slightest. 

"So," starts Dan, "you haven't told me much about you, Rae. I'm over here spilling my entire life and I barely know anything about your own turmoil."  

Rae sips her coffee. "Well it all started when I was born, for example." Dan laughed. He admired her sense of humor (which was about as sarcastic as he tried to be). Could he ever have a chance with her? From the way she had said the word "friendship" earlier, he doubted that the effort of trying to make any move would be futile. 

"When's your birthday?" 

"June 10th." 

"No way! Mine's the 11th," Dan says. "Although from what I remember, you are a little younger." 

"True...I'm only 19, you know. Not old, like you." 

"I don't get how 22 is old, but alright. You win." 

They spent the next hour huddled in the corner still; Dan guessed it was about 2 in the afternoon when the conversation once again landed on the topic of Phil. Rae wouldn't stop asking about what he was like, how he talked, how he acted, and Dan hoped she was doing it all for the sake of helping him repair their mangled relationship. 

"How is this helping me?" Dan questions Rae, who has just asked about Phil's preference in showers or baths. 

"It's fun to hear you talk about him. Plus, the more open you are about it, the easier it'll be to talk to him yourself." She sounds like a therapist. Maybe they'd met for that reason; Rae was probably the only reason he left the house this week. She was the reason why late September suddenly felt so good. 

" _Daaaaaan._ " 

"He likes to take baths, but only if he has a bath bomb or whatever. Other than that, he puts up with showers."  

Rae doesn't ask anymore questions. Dan hates answering about his favorites, so they spend a while talking about _her._  She's just like Dan. She loves Muse and video games and she was studying to be a psychologist at Manchester until her parents divorced, so she had to drop out after a year.  

Dan finds so much comfort in talking to someone who understands what it feels like to consider your own self a failure. He had no trouble admitting it. After numerous panic attacks and a near hospitalization, Dan had stopped caring about lectures and finals and Phil had convinced him it was okay. Everything would be okay if they just spent their time together. 

Yeah, that time had convinced Dan he was utterly useless. 

Phil had gotten a job for a publishing company after he had graduated university, and Dan had done nothing. He had taken Phil's advice way too seriously, and his way of life became downright disgusting. If watching Netflix in bed all day with the duvet pulled up over your face was a job, Dan would have already made millions. 

It was also nice to appreciate time with someone other than Phil. Rae was something different. Instead of feeling awkward and confined to a tiny box, Dan felt open. His heart didn't feel as heavy. When Phil spoke to him, it felt like lead in his veins, like someone wanted him to turn into pancake syrup or something. He hadn't been out of the flat in ages, and for once, it felt nice. 

"We should do this again. I had fun, Dan," said Rae. They were standing on the corner in front of the Starbucks, after having talked for what felt like an eternity. 

"Definitely," Dan replied, and he wanted to hug her, or thank her for listening to him ramble, but decided that it would be awkward and instead watched her as she turned and started walking in the opposite direction. She looked over her shoulder and lifted up a hand to wave, and Dan reciprocated, feeling like he had just sunk back down to the bottom of the sea once again. 

Dan was already very used to the feeling of drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying! Updates are coming soon after this!


	3. Chapter 3

It was October and Dan was in love. 

He loved the wind, and the gray skies, and the shadows of pumpkins on the front steps of the shops in town. He lived for autumn storms and piles of leaves and cinnamon candles. 

Most of all, he loved sitting inside under a blanket with a TV show on in the background. Dan didn't know what it was about the most boring situations, but he enjoyed the simplicity of being able to sit back and not care about anything besides a character on a screen. Him and Phil had many traditions, and fall was the best time to slow down and enjoy each others' existences. 

Except Phil was an ocean away, and Dan was having trouble finding him. 

Phil was spending more and more time at his office, doing whatever it was that he did, and Dan was sat at home living off a wage that wasn't his own, and hadn't been for years. He'd never held a proper job for too long, but Phil was his best friend, and best friends don't kick you out after you almost lose your mind (which, for the record, Dan was not very ashamed of anymore. Everyone has the occasional existential crisis). 

Dan was trying so hard to get through to him. He'd even resorted to calling Phil at his job, however, after being scolded by a secretary, he realized there was no hope in that plan. 

He'd been growing closer to Rae.  

Dan had known her for a month, and he considered them on a good friend sort of basis; Rae knew all too much about how Dan saw himself, and Dan sympathized with her on trivial subjects such as the futility of life and how Dan spoke articulately even in his texts. In other words, Rae was the easiest thing to relate to. She was there, and Phil was somewhere else.  

He hadn't tried to fall out of love yet. People always say you don't know what you're capable of until you attempt it, but Dan couldn't even do that. His heart still beat fast when he saw Phil in the lounge watching TV, and it ached when his snoring was audible from Dan's room at night, where Dan could lay awake and listen for hours. No, he wasn't trying at all, and he didn't know why he loved to torture himself. Some part of him was clutching on to the belief that the future was still there. 

His future. _Their_ future. 

It was almost 10 o'clock at night when Phil got home from work. Dan had been dozing off in front of the TV when he heard him come in. 

"Hey." Phil greets him, and now he's wide awake. 

"Hi. How was your day?" Dan replies. 

Phil lets out a sigh and sits down on the couch, close enough that Dan can see the bags under his eyes, but still so far away.  

"Y'know." Phil shuts his eyes for a moment, then turns to look at Dan. "I'm just tired." 

"I've never really had a job so I can't really--" 

"It isn't just the job though," interrupts Phil, who is rubbing his temples. Dan gets nervous instantly. If he's about to go on some sort of tangent about Dan being a jackass or a lowlife good-for-nothing friend, he wants no part of it. 

"I miss you a lot, Dan. I'm sitting beside you, and I'm missing you still." _Well that was unexpected._  

Dan says, "Do you want to talk about it?" Because now, he's interested in hearing what's on Phil's mind. It's been a while since they'd had a conversation about something other than who they thought would die on Game of Thrones next. It had been a while since they'd talked: really, honestly talked. 

"I don't know," Phil replies sullenly, and Dan doesn't want to pry him. "I do, but I feel like you're going to judge me for what I'm feeling." 

Dan scoffs. "Me? _Judge_ you?" He lets himself laugh at Phil's assumption in a way that is meant to comfort him. "Phil, you're my best friend. You could tell me about someone you've killed and I wouldn't bat a single judgemental eye." 

"The way you flirt is shameful, Howell."  

"Shut up. Are you going to talk to me or not?" 

Dan can take pride in the fact that Phil now looks a tad bit happier than he did at the start of this conversation. Maybe all hope wasn't lost after all. Maybe he could get through to him. 

"Lately, I've had something on my mind...do you ever just feel like your veins are full of molasses and your legs don't really walk right and your hands shake for no reason? I think something's wrong with me Dan. Pardon me for bringing it up, but it's like that night you spent in the hospital. I held your hand so tight but your fingers kept quivering and you couldn't stop tapping your feet." Phil looks very, very nervous, and Dan's mind feels soupy, and now he can't help but feel what that felt like a few years ago. He can't help but remember it. 

Dan doesn't like to remember the not so good moments, and he tries to push the time he actually almost died to the furthest recesses of his brain. He'd always had trouble with depression. It was something he lived with. He dealt with it like he dealt with most things: terribly. Now that Phil had brought it up, the imaginary rain clouds over his head had started pouring, and the faint memory of getting his stomach pumped made him feel like throwing up all over again. 

In Dan's defense, Phil had been the one to leave the bottle of pills on the counter as a sick, albeit accidental, invitation to someone very susceptible to hurting himself. 

"Dan, what's wrong with me?" 

Phil was not one to acknowledge his sense of self, and Dan knew that. Phil, being Phil, never cared what he was feeling. On the other hand, he'd spent so long caring way too much about what Dan was feeling. 

"Nothing," Dan answers, knowing all too well how it felt. "Phil, nothing is wrong with you. You don't have to agree with me, but I'm going to be honest. In your life, you'll feel like shit sometimes. It happens." 

Dan doesn't expect Phil to laugh, but he does nevertheless. His smile is something Dan will never take for granted. Phil runs a hand through his fringe of hair and messes it up, revealing the subtle wrinkles of his forehead. 

"Will you get me a drink, Dan?" 

Dan abides, as he feels obliged to help Phil get relief in any way he can. He'd been there; Dan was no stranger to numbing his feelings. He heads to the kitchen and fishes out two wine glasses from the cupboard as well as a bottle of a really cheap red wine that had only been opened once before. When he returns to the living room, Phil has removed his coat and shoes, and was now sitting cross-legged on the sofa, with his back against the armrest, facing Dan. 

It was a welcoming sight.  

"So," says Dan, pouring Phil a glass of wine, "Since I'm much more experienced when it comes to this stuff, let me be your therapist of sorts. Talk to me about everything." It was hard not to sound eager, but that's exactly what Dan was. He handed Phil the glass and watched as he took a sip. 

"It's been bothering me that I'm relating so much to you lately," Phil admits, licking his lips. Dan felt like melting. "What do you mean?" He responds. Dan doesn't intend it to sound so sad. 

"You know," says Phil, "you never really explained to me why you tried to leave me. You could've died. What if you had?" 

"Then I suppose we wouldn't be having this conversation." Dan sinks down onto the sofa and drinks from his own glass of wine, raising an eyebrow at Phil, who has once again brought up something he hates to remember in the first place. 

Dan _can_ remember it, though. He'd come to terms with it. He had wanted to die, and he had planned to, and yet Phil never asked why. How un-self-centered do you have to be? When the one you love grows to hate life _that_ much, you would expect to ask why. _Phil never asked why._ Dan had literally attempted to kill himself and Phil had accepted it, moved past it, and loved him all the same. 

"Phil, are you trying to tell me you're suicidal?" 

"No, it's not that." Shaking his head, Phil scrunches up his nose and lets out a sigh. "It's been on my mind because it's almost been two years since you...y'know, since you tried, and I've been imagining what a mess I'd be now if it had worked." 

"Oh," Dan says. "You're right...I didn't realize it'd been that long." 

October 14th, 2011. At around 6 in the evening, Dan was looking death in the face. 

It hadn't been graceful. He remembers staring at himself in the mirror as he swallowed handfuls of pain pills. It wasn't beautiful, and it wasn't sad. He had felt nothing with each passing moment. Phil hadn't been home, and Dan didn't realize his last words to him would've been something about a video game they were playing before Phil had left to go to the shop. He would've regretted it, and he regretted even more that Phil had to find him bawling on the bathroom floor with an empty medicine bottle. He remembers how he shouted, "I love you, goddamn, I'm sorry." He had thought those were better last words, anyway, in place of leaving a silly note. 

He had loved him, but he hadn't been sorry. 

Phil stayed with him in the hospital that night. He stayed when Dan was violently ill all over the floor of the room, and he held cool towels to his face when Dan managed to shut his eyes for a few seconds at a time. Phil had held his hand through it all. He had pushed the hair off his forehead with such gentleness; Dan distinctly remembers the pressure of Phil's thumb, stroking his eyelids slowly, and he can recall the touch of Phil's lips to his temple every few minutes when the doctors had their backs turned. _They_ were the worst of it, though. Dan was subjected to the questioning of medical doctors and psychiatric staff, and Phil hadn't been allowed in the room at that point.  

Yes, Dan could remember the questions they asked, and he can remember seeing Phil through the tiny window on the door, and that had given him enough strength to sit up and talk. 

When you're suicidal, people treat you like they treat their pets. You are addressed in a babying voice and you are looked at as lesser, even if it isn't directly said. When you want to die, no one really asks you about the things that you wouldn't miss if you killed yourself; they tend to focus on all the reasons why you should live, and never why not. 

"Phil, what does this have to do with you being downcast?" Dan says finally, pulling himself up by his own collar out of his thoughts. 

Phil has drained his wine from the glass. "Correct me if you think I'm wrong, but I need what we had, Dan. I need you here if I'm going to be here. No more of this primary school stuff. Will you let me be your best friend? Am I crossing a line if I do this?" As he speaks, Phil moves over to sit next to Dan, knees touching, facing each other on the sofa. Dan doesn't break Phil's eye contact for the first time in a long time. 

"Nothing's changed," Dan whispers, his voice barely audible. "I've always been right here. It'll make me happy if this makes you happy." 

"Best friends, Dan." And Dan knows what Phil is suggesting by saying that, and Dan doesn't bother trying to hold his hand again, because it would only make things much worse than they already were. 

Phil's eyes flickered down to Dan's hands as if to tell him no, and Dan understood. Phil's eyes were Dan's favorite thing to see after a long day; they were the sunrise he always wanted to wake up to and the moon he never wanted to set. They sat there on the couch like that for a while, not talking, just looking, as if to rediscover who they were after all the time that had seemingly passed between their fight and this apology. 

Dan was hardly ever good at apologizing. Phil made it easy for him. 

"I think I'd better go to bed now. Work again in the morning..." Phil trails off, and stands to tower over Dan, who feels a certain type of softness in his entire body. Phil has managed to squish him down into something he hasn't felt since they were dating. 

"Alright. Goodnight then, I'll be in here for a while." Dan replies, watching Phil as he returns a soft smile before heading off to his room. 

Dan grabs his laptop from the coffee table and opens Google.  

 _How_ _many times can you fall in love with the same person?_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update took so long!

**Author's Note:**

> Parts will be updated according to how much time I have to update; I'm quite busy, so I apologize in advance. Go ahead and bookmark as there will be many, MANY parts.


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